Might Not Make It
by LxIsxJustice
Summary: "I might not make it home tonight." Harry/Hermione songfic to three Barcelona songs. As Harry takes his last breath, her name is on his lips.
1. Get Up

**Hello. I am here again with another Harry/Hermione piece. This was inspired by the youtube video made by alli6 called Might Not Make it Home Tonight. If you want the link, let me know so I can send it. The video (and the fiction) is to the song "Get Up" by Barcelona. It is a haunting and beautiful melody that had me in its grasp the moment I heard it. I hope you like this story. It is written in stream of consiousness, so it will be a little stilted and choppy. It's to show how dijointed Harry feels at not only having to die, but also to die knowing that Hermione will never know how he feels. It's a pretty sad fic, but I am in a melancholic mood this week and needed to write something serious. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Barcelona/ their lyrics. I make no money, only tears.**

_Five days after black and red collide.  
>The motion sickness past, I'll be the first to stand<em>

Harry slowly opened his hand up, letting the Resurrection Stone, and the vision of his family, fall from his hand into the dry grass beneath him.

It was time.

He allowed the memories of his brief life wash over him. They, not unexpectedly, had a theme to them. He smiled gently to himself, a secret smile, his last smile, for the one he loved.

He would never see her again. He walked forward.

He would never get to see her smile, never get to hear the beautiful sound of her laugh, never admire her angelic face or hold her soft hands or tell her how much she meant; how special she was to him.

_Hermione._

He could see her the first time they met. _"You're Harry Potter! I'm Hermione Granger"_

Her voice had been grating, and girly, and he hadn't liked her at first, though mostly because Ron couldn't stand her. Then the incident with the troll in the girls' lavatory had bonded them as best friends: the Golden Trio.

He had never had friends before Ron and Hermione. He'd always been picked on by Dudley and his friends. But meeting Ron and Hermione had been the first ray of sunshine in his dark world.

"_You're a great wizard, Harry. You really are."_

"_Not as good as you."_

_She'c scoffed, "Me? Books and cleverness. There are more important things. Like friendship…and bravery. And Harry, just be careful."_

Second year, Hermione had been petrified by the Basilisk. He'd sat for hours by her side when he wasn't trying to figure out the riddles and the diary and the voices.

He'd been so lost without her. He'd never felt so alone; everyone thought he was crazy, and he knew that even though she couldn't say so, Hermione knew the truth, even if it was too late.

"_Wish you were here, Hermione. I need you."_

_Behind that weathered door, I thought it would be safest.  
><em>_My head is dizzy now, I thought we'd overcome_

In third year, they'd helped free Sirius and saved Buckbeak, using the powers of Time to change history. He'd been so scared and angry as he confronted the man who'd betrayed his parents, but Hermione had made a bold declaration.

"_If you kill Harry, you'll have to kill us too!" _It was then that he realized that his friends were true. They wouldn't desert him in a time of need.

Then the Triwizard Tournament mess had come in fourth year, with Ron siding against him and Hermione doing everything in her power to bring them back together.

"_You need us, Harry." _

"_Now more than ever."_

_I might not make it home tonight_

And the Yule ball. That fateful night when he realized what the jumbled up feelings in his chest and stomach meant.

"_She's beautiful!"_

"_Yeah, she is."_ He'd never meant to say it out loud. He simply felt the need to acknowledge his feelings.

When Cedric had died, Harry had realized that no one could escape their fate. No one could hold off the death that was imminent for so many in the next few years. She had soothed his ragged tears with gentle words and gentler caresses.

And he was hopelessly in love.

Then, in fifth year, they'd formed the DA together. Though the others were reluctant to trust him, Hermione had defended him and when he'd angrily said that she didn't understand…

"_You're right, Harry, we don't. That's why we need your help. Because if we're having any chance against beating... Voldemort."_

_Crawling on the ash, she's pitiful__  
>She lost her sense of light; she has to hold my hand<em>

When Ron had fallen to a love potion in sixth year, he'd croaked out Hermione's name and she'd held his hand. Lavender wasn't the only one heartbroken that day. Harry had angrily punched his pillow and sobbed tearlessly when he realized his Hermione wasn't and never would be his.

"_Did you hear her talk about me and her snogging? As if..." _Ron had nearly sealed a death wish with those words. How dare he. How dare he drag Hermione through the mud like a Harlot, and yet say that he loved her. How dare he.

This year had been the hardest. Living in close quarters had nearly gone to his head, as he pretended they were getting closer. He could pretend that he didn't feel anything for her, but he couldn't watch as she sat there and cried for Ron.

_Had I known we might be two kids without their jackets.  
>My fear would come alive, I wouldn't loathe her now<em>

They'd danced, not even speaking: just holding each other. He'd prayed to whatever or whoever was listening to give him that moment forever. Please, just let me hold Hermione.

"_Maybe we should just stay here, Harry. Grow old."_

And nothing was closer to his heart than that wish. All he wanted was to stay with her forever, not caring whether or not they'd live to see tomorrow. Not caring about anything but her.

"_I'll go with you."_ He couldn't let her. He would lose his life, but he would never forfeit hers.

Never.

"Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived. Come to die."

He closed his eyes, faced down death, and with his final breath, whispered.

_Hermione_.

_I might not make it home tonight_

**Read and Review my friends. I hope you liked this story; Let me know what you think.**


	2. Please Don't Go

**Wow, so I thought this was done, but I just found my old Barcelona CDs and I am super inspired. This chapter is inspired by "Please Don't Go" by Barcelona, and while still dark like the first, this one has both humor and hope. And I'm pretty sure there will be a third (final? maybe not the last) chapter to "end it" unless I decide there needs to be more. Let me know what you think.**

_All those arrows you threw, you threw them away  
>You kept falling in love, then one day<br>When you fell, you fell towards me  
>When you crashed in the clouds, you found me<em>

New scenes flashed before his mind's eye.

Of course.

Of course, Voldemort was that cruel. He would show all of Harry's darkest moments as the light left his eyes. He saw it all. All he had desperately locked away, never letting them stand in the light, for fear they would darken the sun with their ugliness.

"_Everything's going to change now, isn't it?"_ She'd asked so innocently, only referring to how life was going to go downhill from there. But Harry recognized something inside himself that night. A beautiful love for one best friend, and a hideous jealousy for the other.

_Oh, please don't go  
>I want you so<br>I can't let go  
>For I lose control<em>

She'd been so distraught that night. Ron had been flaunting his pompous attitude towards Hermione for weeks, knowing that he was attracted to her, but acting as though he didn't need her. And it had all culminated into one breakdown on the steps leading outside, where several couples were dancing.

The paper birds were simply a reminder that she would fly away from him one day.

He knew that, despite everything, she would go to Ron. He knew, because he was going to do nothing about it.

He had already vowed, in light of the overwhelming emotions that overtook him that night, that he would do everything in his power to keep her safe.

Safe from Voldemort, safe from the world, safe from judgment, safe from him.

He knew that he could never admit his feelings; they put her out in the middle of a field with a giant target on her chest. As well as a pulsing neon sign that screamed _Come Kill Me!_

No, he would not put her in harm's way. He would protect her in everything he did: this was how he would express his love.

Another scene flittered through his hazing mind.

"_Harry!"_

An embrace. Such a simple, simple gesture as a hug, and Harry's muddled brain was in turmoil. He had stepped through the door to the bedroom in 12 Grimmauld Place and had been met with the most back breaking of hugs.

Hermione.

When shock had faded, he had returned the embrace, knowing it was innocent and only in concern for his mental well-being.

But oh, how he wished it was more. He wanted that touch to be one of love, passion, want. He had become aroused almost instantly, his body responding to what it knew to be its soul mate.

He had quickly extricated himself, turned, and thought of Dumbledore in nothing but pink boxers with polka dots (did he even _wear _boxers?) to calm himself down.

He had wanted to throw Hermione to the bed and make love to her until she screamed his name and _where the hell did that thought come from_? For Merlin's sake, not only was the Order downstairs, but Ron was in the room as well.

And Dumbledore wore pink boxers with polka dots.

Right.

Another moment passed before him.

_Get these left handed lovers out of your way  
>They look hopeful but you, you should not stay<br>If you want me to break down and give you the keys  
>I can do that but I can't let you leave<em>

Dancing in the tent, just a short while ago during the Horcrux hunt. He had thought of this moment on his way to die, but now Voldemort strained it through the mud, tainting it with what Harry had longed for while he held Hermione.

He had wanted to shake her, shake her until she could see sense. Ron didn't care like he did. How could she not see that? She could have him on his knees at her feet if she but flicked her fingers. Harry was always there for her, always took her side in a fight, and always protected her.

From himself.

And it had hit him, that he was selfish.

He had been moping for a long time, knowing that she wouldn't acknowledge his love, though he was the one who denied her the chance. All for selfish reasons.

It wasn't only that he wanted to protect her. He wanted to protect himself.

Protection from the loss he would feel if she denied him, or the tearing of his heart as he watched her lifeless body collapse to the ground. Or the ache that would be in his tattered soul as he carried the knowledge that she was better off with another man.

As his vision faded to black, he decided that regardless of his selfish actions, he would make amends. If he had to, he could come back and haunt Voldemort; bug and pester the hell out of him until he succumbed to a painful death of pure annoyance at the Bloody-Boy-Who-Died-And-Didn't-Give-A-Shit-About-The-Rules-of-Death.

_Oh, please don't go  
>I want you so<br>I can't let go  
>For I lose control<em>

He thought he felt himself smile as he felt the last vestiges of life leave his body.

As his soul went on, he let one more thought in.

It was him and Hermione holding hands.

God, he loved her.

**Read and Review, my loves. Reviews are to LxIsxJustice as Hermione is to Harry: they are destined to be together. :)**


	3. Come Back

**Hello, lovelies. Here is the last chapter of this story. it is still written in stream of counciousness, so it is disjointed to show the thought process. I loved working on this style, because it is a far cry from my usual writing. I hope you like it. It was inspired by "Come Back When You Can" by Barcelona. Listen to he song while reading, it makes it more impactful. Enjoy!**

_I've been led on  
>To think that we've been<br>Trying for too long.  
>Every time we drift<br>We're forcing what is wrong.  
>At last that voice is gone.<em>

"Is…is he dead?" Bellatrix's voice carried over the murmuring coming from the Death Eater troupe to his newly awakened senses.

He is alive.

The shock of it is almost enough to make him laugh out loud, but he refrains, knowing that if he dies again, he will likely never return.

He feels a presence come up beside him, and realizes its Narcissa Malfoy when she asks softly, "Is he alive? Draco…is he alive?" she pleads for an answer, and he grants her the tiniest of nods, hoping against hope that she will have sympathy for him and say he is dead.

"Dead," she says to the group assembled. Well, thank you, Mrs. Malfoy.

"No!" Hagrid's shout erupts before he is silenced with a charm. Voldemort cackles insanely. It is an annoying sound.

"Giant! Pick up your fallen 'savior'. You will carry him back to the school and show all those Mudbloods that their hope is gone," he says in his frayed and cold voice.

After some rustling, Harry feels himself being lifted by his friend, and he knows he is safe. Now he will wait, for the opportune moment to spring his trap.

_Please take your time  
>But you've got to know that<br>I am taking sight.  
>Oh, you look good<br>with your patient face and wandering eye  
>Don't hold this war inside.<em>

"Who is that? Neville…who is Hagrid carrying?" Ginny's desperate whisper floats across the space. He feels a pang of guilt for his deception. He wonders if Hermione is there, awaiting the news of his death.

_Hermione._

If he manages to win; if he lives through this, he vows he will tell her. Everything. He will hold her and weep and beg her to both forgive him and love him.

He's not above falling to his knees, either.

He knows it's a longshot: she loves Ron, and isn't likely to just accept him because he asks it. But he's going to try.

"Harry Potter…is dead!" the Dark Lord shouts with triumph, and it looks like everyone believes him.

"No!" two voices. One, a hopeless cry, from Ginny. The other, a whispered scream from Hermione. How he hears it from this distance is beyond him.

He wants to reach out and hold Hermione, and reassure her that The-Boy-Who-Lived…Again is not going anywhere so easily. Not where he can't be with her every day and tell her what she means to him.

After a rather heroic speech from Neville, he rallies his courage and tumbles from Hagrid's arms.

_Oh, it is on._

_Come back when you can.  
>Let go, you'll understand.<br>You've done nothing at all to make me love you less.  
>So come back when you can.<br>_

It is over.

Odd, how much comfort and grief can come from those three simple words. The Light has won, Voldemort is gone forever, and he is alive. Weird…he didn't count on that last part.

And now its time.

He's been wandering the grounds for some time, feeling lost now that his sole purpose for the last seventeen years has been brought to fulfillment.

A hand comes to his shoulder. "Harry?"

And he knows that voice. Knows it like he knows his own name, but oh, he's never heard his name said like she says it. With music and light and reverence and affection that only her voice can perfect.

_Hermione._

"Hey, 'Mione. How are you holding up?" he turns to her, and the sheer beauty that radiates from her takes his breath away. She grins, taking his hand and inspecting it.

"Forget about me." Yeah, right. "I came to see how _you_ were faring."

He smiles back, touched by her concern for him, though he really shouldn't be surprised. It's just going to take some getting used to this whole _I'm alive_ thing.

"I'm doing fine," he replies simply, though that statement carries all his hopes, his longings, his fears, his confusion.

Her brow furrows and she takes his other hand and urges him to look at her. "But you're not fine, are you," she says it as a statement, rather than a question.

"Right."

_You left your home  
>You're so far from<br>Everything you know  
>Your big dream is<br>Crashing down and out your door.  
>Wake up and dream once more.<em>

Silence is prevalent for a while, as he gathers the courage that he was left with after the battle. He realizes now, that that wasn't the Final Battle. This is.

"Look, 'Mione, I don't really know how I'm supposed to say this. I've sort of been lying to myself about it, and I don't think you're going to like what I have to say." He breathes out through his nose and runs a hand through his messy hair.

He should probably get it cut. He hasn't had a haircut since Hermione took a rusty blade to it in the tent during to horcrux hunt.

"Harry, nothing you can say will drive me away," she explains patiently, like he's some idiot that needs a bit of help understanding the obvious. He loves that tone.

Wanna bet?

"HermioneILoveYou!" he blurts, his face red with shame at how rushed it sounded.

But a she dissects that sentence, her smile slowly starts to grow. And her eyes twinkle with joy unlike any he's ever seen in them.

And she bursts into tears.

Well, that was unexpected.

His hope diminishes before his eyes, as she puts her hands over her eyes and sobs. _She doesn't love me_.

"Oh, Harry!" she throws herself into his arms, still weeping, and starts to plant kisses all over his face, which is frozen in a totally shocked expression.

"Harry…Harry…" she chants his name into his bloodied shirt, sounding as though she needs to say his name to keep him from disappearing. "Harry, I love you so much."

_Come back when you can.  
>Let go, you'll understand.<br>You've done nothing at all to make me love you less.  
>So come back when you can.<em>

_Wait…what?_

He surely did not hear her correctly. He must have misheard her grotesquely, and _why have conjunctions suddenly deserted my thoughts?_

Her words free-float through his mind in a nebulous cloud that doesn't want to take form. _Harry, I love you so much._ What does it mean?

"Harry, how could you think that the words I most wanted to hear would drive me away?" she whispers into his neck, kissing there for emphasis.

"I..but..wha—" is his oh-so-eloquent answer.

She pulls back to stare into his eyes; hers are a soft chocolate brown that shine with tears. "Harry, I have loved you since fifth year. Since I held you the night Cedric died, I've loved you. It was so weird, the wonderful feelings I had fluttering in me even though I was supposed to feel nothing but grief about what happened. But you were in my arms and I just couldn't bring myself to care about anything but you."

He stares at her, still not functioning properly. She realizes this, and with a sigh, she brings her mouth to his.

_Sweet Merlin, but she tastes good_. Her lips beckon his to play as they whisper their declarations of love. It makes sense.

_Oh, I see._

And he is kissing her back. He is kissing Hermione. _Oh my god!_

The world is perfect now.

_Come back, I'll help you stand.  
>Let go and hold my hand.<em>

They hold hands. "I love you."

_If all you wanted was me, I'd give you nothing less.  
>So come back when you can<em>

**Read and Review. I want to know how I did on the style and the story itself. Let me know! :)**


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